


A Botanist's Adventures

by Empress_of_Trash



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LGBTQ Female Character, Mad Love For Makino, Past Child Abuse, Protective Mugiwara no Ichimi | Straw Hat Pirates, Self-Insert, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empress_of_Trash/pseuds/Empress_of_Trash
Summary: Flora "Murrey" Margeurite had never been a fan of One Piece before she woke up in it, but she fully intended to be a pirate.(Even if she was not entirely certain what it entailed.)Specifically a Strawhat Pirate.But she had promises to keep and a long journey involving friendship, healing, and new and old love.Not A Fan!OC-Insert





	A Botanist's Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> You could say this is the reverse of "invasive species".
> 
> They definitely come from the same inspiration.

I had always been an easy crier. I sobbed when I was upset about something. I sniffled when I was overwhelmingly happy. I angry cried when something enraged me. Crying was soothing and helped funnel emotions. I always felt better when I cried.

 

When I died though I didn't cry once. How could I? The worst thing that could have happened to me had already happened.

 

( _ Soft hands and a gruff voice. That horse laugh that made her nose squint up. Tattoos blending together like beautiful mosaics on her back. Singing Disney songs in the middle of the night always off-key. A bed of flowers, a herb garden in the kitchen, and a spoiled fat cat all reminders of the softness inside her. A worn loveseat in the corner of an apartment with a hand sewn quilt always open. And a still body surrounded by daisies. The aching horrible loneliness left in the wake. _ )

 

I hadn't been able to cry then. If I couldn't cry for her who had deserved my tears-- _ my friend, my forever partner, my sunshine mellow _ \--how could I cry over myself.

 

So I got through the beginning of my next life with a smile. The same numb smile I'd worn since then. I was a quiet baby, a blessing on new parents and my early smiling must have seemed charming enough to show off. I spent my first year fading in and out always in a new place with new people smiling and being passed around.

 

I was a quiet child and so well behaved it took them until I was two to realize I wasn't speaking. In their defense it wasn't like they spent much time with me. I was always quickly passed off to wet nurses and nannies, I had multiple of each, when I was no longer needed as an accessory.

 

I doubt it would have even come up if my mother hadn't been asked my first word by another peer bragging about her son’s. Mother had been quite put out about being unable to answer and when my response to being asked ‘sweetly’ to “Say hello to Mummy’s friend.” was silence she had brushed it off.

 

That night though my parents had dragged me off for a lecture along with my caretakers who all agreed I had never offered a peep. Already rumors had spread in regards to my intelligence and while my parents were happy with a pretty biddable child, even had no desire for a particularly intelligent  _ girl _ as even then they had marriage plans, they realized by the snide comments over tea that my silence was abnormal.

 

Abnormal was not charming.

 

Abnormal was something to be cut out and eradicated. 

 

My mother screamed in my face demanding I spoke and I kept silent.

 

My father slapped me across the face and I bit my lip to distract my watery eyes for a few moments.

 

In the end they surrendered as they stared down at my smiling face in horror.

 

It was the first step of a very important plan.

 

I was not a fan of  _ One Piece _ . I had agreed to watch it years ago, but somehow never got in order always skipping around to her favorite arcs and characters. I had seen all the movies and been read a few fanfictions, but had no truly coherent understanding of the world.

 

I had recognized what my parents were when we were escorted around on a summer trip with some more well off, read royal, friends of their by the marines. I had carefully observed the symbol I had spent months hand stitching into an identical uniform. I had listened to the discussions about fish imported from the South Blue during a salon. I had been read “Noland the Liar” by one of my nannies who originally came from the North Blue.

 

I was the daughter of nobles in Goa Kingdom. I knew from my best friend’s rants (and “not-crying”) about a character named Sabo that nobles like my parents ( _ self-centered, entitled, the worst of humanity _ ) would abandoned a child they thought was a failure and replace them.

 

I fully intended to be replaced and ignored if I could help it.

 

My parents followed suit beautifully, losing all interest in me as they tried for another child and were thrilled to welcome another little girl a year later.

 

I wasn't thrown in the streets, I was too well-known and it wasn't fashionable, but I was functionally abandoned with a skeleton crew of one individual house maid I shared with my sister. I was never shown off again and as long as I stayed out of sight my parents didn't care what I did.

 

I kept smiling. The more they ignored me the better. After all if anyone paid attention they might question the fact I was trilingual in a one language world, had a growing collection on books focused on the Grandline, and was carefully collecting all bounty posters and information on pirates I could. They might have noticed I practiced with my father’s revolver or had acquired a set of knives. They may have seen me practicing my old kickboxing moves and relearning how to pick locks.

 

They might have realized their sweet, quiet little Marguerite fully intended to be a pirate.

 

I had no other choice after all. I had been sent here by someone for a reason and damn it I would fulfill that dream for my Susie since she couldn't. 

  
( _ And maybe there was a tender, carefully hidden hope of finding evidence that she too had joined me here. _ )


End file.
